Saturday, June 19, 2010

A long time ago, it seems
I was born
in a Hollywood hospital
to a Southern Belle
and her intemperate Hispanic husband…
and I was loved.

From the time I came into the world
I always knew I was Daddy’s Girl.

Daddy
who walked me to sleep
who lifted me to the pulpit to sing
who paid me to shine his Sunday shoes
who gave me free range of his library
who settled my rebellion with a look
who told me nobody was good enough for me
but that I would make a lousy wife anyway.

Daddy
who in the pain of parting from Mom
gave me to her because, he said, she needed me more
but really, he knew he’d be living hand to mouth
to support our separate households alone.

Daddy
who every year on my birthday
tells me the story
of the nurse coming out of the delivery room
and saying, “Mr. Gutierrez, you have a daughter.”

Daddy.

I’m glad you finally said you are proud of me.
I’ll always be your girl.

you ask me how I feel
and I cannot answer you
because I have forgotten
in this fog
what the words are
and somehow
they would seem inadequate
if I could force them
to my lips
when I would rather kiss you

why is it so important
the vowels and consonants
formed into images
that might appear distorted
from proximity

allow me instead
to reach into dark places
with my tongue
to speak with parts of me
that seldom have a voice
let me
let me
show you what I cannot say

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The Mystic Fool

If you know me, you'll know it's me. Just your friendly neighborhood Corvid Girl, tryin to make a living and doin the best I can.

Sun rises~ same yet different~ each new day. I am your average, everyday paradox. I feel honored to be in Earth School. The lessons are hard, but the blessings are bountiful. I am a lot of things and I do a lot of things. Come look into my window, come look into my eyes.